


Dean Doesn't Do Coffee Shops

by orderandlight



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shop, Destiel - Freeform, M/M, Shortest Coffeeshop AU in the world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-14
Updated: 2012-11-14
Packaged: 2017-11-18 15:46:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/562714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orderandlight/pseuds/orderandlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean doesn't think much of coffee shops. But Sam does, and they have a "family reunion" in one, where the barista happens to be a very attractive blue-eyed man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dean Doesn't Do Coffee Shops

**Author's Note:**

> It's super short because it was a three-paragraph fic challenge on tumblr.com, only I cheated and wrote more than that and I was asked to continue it later so it's slightly longer than it should have been.  
> I just wanted to post something on my first AO3 day.

Dean doesn’t do coffee shops. But his brother has called for some kind of a family reunion, something about starting family contact again, which Dean really didn’t need. But he abided, and ended up in the coffee shop Sam had picked out.

Typical unreliable little brother, he wasn’t there yet and that left a slightly pissed Dean to sit in those overly comfortable booths. He’s just staring down at the receipt of the weird tasting coffee he ordered when he arrived when someone slips into the chair opposite him. He looks up, only to be faced with a guy far smaller than Sam, and most definitely not related to him.

“You don’t look too happy,” Says the guy. He obviously works here - he’s wearing the ugly red polo shirt with the coffee bean logo.

Dean gives small cough. The guy’s shy smile is adorable. It’s almost enough to put him in a good mood again. “You look kinda nervous yourself…” He trails of, inviting the guy to introduce himself.

“Castiel,” His eyes don’t leave Dean’s, and that should probably be a lot more unnerving than it actually is. The eyes are a drowning blue and Dean certainly doesn’t mind staring back. “My uh, workmates don’t approve of socialising with customers.”

“So, what, you talk to anyone who walks in alone?” He thinks he successfully hides the disappointment.

Castiel picks at the collar of his shirt, glancing back at the counter again, where some guy with longish blonde hair is staring them down. “Not often. You looked like you could use company.” He must have noted Dean’s suspicious glance at the waiting baristas. “My brothers,” Cas explains. “It’s a family business.”

Dean shrugs once in reply, and a few seconds later his giant of a brother waltzes into the place, making the little bell above the door ring. Castiel must’ve read the recognition in Dean’s face, because he slides out of the booth as quickly as he appeared and gives Dean a curt smile.

The whole thing with Sam goes relatively well, though Dean might blame that on the good mood induced in him when he orders another coffee, and Castiel is the one who delivers it, only to find that a phone number is scribbled onto the back of the receipt.

 

 ***

 

It’s two days after the reunion thing with Sam (about which Dean is kind of embarrassed to admit he can’t remember all that much about - Castiel kind of stole the limelight those whole 2 hours), and Dean is seriously considering calling Cas. He’s not a call-back kind of guy. At all. Then again, nor is he the playing for this team guy. At least not 98% of the time. But his mind keeps wandering back to those fucking incredible eyes and the friendly smile.

“Fuck it,” he says aloud, and tosses the phone back onto the couch. What would he say anyway? It’d be much easier to do this - whatever it was - in person. So before he’s even fully aware of what or why he’s doing it, he’s slamming the door of his precious ‘67 Chevy Impala shut behind him and takes the half an hour drive to that coffee shop again.

This time he feels slightly awkward walking in. He’s not really sure what he’s doing here. Except that he cranes his neck around the counter to see if Castiel is anywhere around. No such luck. He orders a not-too-exotic sounding coffee flavour and takes a seat as plainly in sight of the door to the kitchens (or whatever the fuck they’re called in a coffee shop), sipping slowly at his mug.

“Dean?” His head practically snaps up at that, and he does his best not to let people see how his face fucking lights up when Castiel comes strolling past the counter. Dean picked a dumb seat this time - it’s just a bench with a table in front. He’s about to try pull up a chair for Cas, when he just slides in to the confined bench space, suddenly pressed thigh-to-thigh with Dean. “You could’ve just called,” he frowned.

Dean was still recovering from the whole surprise, and he finally manages a noncommittal shrug. “Prefer actually seeing people I’m talking to.”

Castiel gives a warm smile, looking up at Dean again, eerily reading him. Dean can’t help thinking what great eyes Cas has, when he snaps out of it, and has another sip of coffee. “Are you allowed to sit here and talk to me, or will your brothers throw a fit?”

Cas pouts slightly. “They can fit all they want. I’m trying to find a new job anyway.” There’s a moment of silence, before Cas asks Dean what  _he_  does for a living. He explains that technically he’s a mechanic, but really he restores cars. People bring him classics, mostly in scraps, and he fixes them up. It explains the old Impala out in the car park.

Before Dean knows it, they’ve talked about just anything Castiel could think of - favourite food, music, TV shows and a healthy amount of time spent on bitching about family. Then someone is telling Cas they’re closing shop in ten minutes (and that he’s no way being paid for talking to customers half the day), and Castiel is getting up awkwardly, apologising to Dean for talking for so long.

Dean gets up too replying with lots of combinations of “man, I’m the one who drove here”, “don’t be sorry, Jesus, _I_ kind of asked for it”, “sorry about your pay”. Then Cas’ hand is on his shoulder, and he’s fucking staring through his soul with those eyes, telling Dean it’s all good.

“Hey-” Dean coughs when Cas is about to turn and disappear behind the counter again. He hesitates a second when Castiel turns to him again. “Wanna do something? Once you close up shop?” And just saying that aloud - maybe the admitting to himself that hey, he’s more than interested in Castiel - feels great.

Castiel’s lips twitch, and he says “Sure. I’ll be out in five.” And he is - wearing jeans and a grey t-shirt. When they slide into either side of the Impala, Dean is suddenly at a loss of what to do. Usually he’d take a girl to a bar, get drunk and end up in either of their houses. But that seems the entirely wrong approach here. Nor does Dean even want that - not yet, and Christ that thought was weird coming from Dean.

He’s just fiddling with the keys, running one hand loosely over the steering wheel, and he turns his head turned to Cas with eyebrows raised. “Anything in mind?”

Dean almost jolts at how close Cas’ face is, eyes fixed on Dean’s face again. The surprise on his face increases by a hundredfold when Castiel sudden presses their lips together, though it soon melts into a smile, with Dean’s hands wandering to the back of Cas’ head, preventing escape anytime soon.

Dean is a-okay with this plan of Cas’.


End file.
